


A Night Alone

by irisqod



Series: The Baby at 221b [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhaustion, M/M, New Dads, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisqod/pseuds/irisqod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where’s Bumble?” John asked after their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Alone

Sherlock had plans. The evening was theirs to enjoy. Ewan was with Mrs. Hudson and would be staying overnight. He was 4 months old and had just started to sleep through the night reliably.

He’d tidied up the flat and changed the sheets on their bed. The laundry wasn’t done, but it was out of sight.

John got home from a shift he had taken last minute at the surgery, saw dinner on the table and nearly wept with relief. The smell of the food made his stomach rumble with anticipation. Sherlock had made dinner. Well, he’d gotten John’s favorite Thai curry and had put it on plates. Close enough.

“Oh, come on. That’s lovely. ‘Lock?” he called out, “Where are you?” He put down his bag and threw his jacket over his chair.

Sherlock came out of their room into the kitchen, “Just washing up.” He stepped to John and embraced him. “Sit down and eat.”

“Where’s Bumble?” John asked after their son.

“Downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. For the evening.” He gave John a look that made John’s heart beat faster in his chest. “We have the night alone.” His voice dropped into that deep baritone that worked so well to get John hard. John had to try not to wolf down his dinner. He didn’t succeed.

He cleared the table and when Sherlock came to help him was the dishes, he snatched the handful of silverware away, threw it in the sink and pinned Sherlock against the table. “They can wait. Soaking is good for them.” 

He was working the buttons on Sherlock’s shirt open and Sherlock was fumbling to get John’s belt off. “Let’s go to bed.” He took John by the hand and pulled him to the bedroom.

They stood for a moment, undressing each other by turns. Soon shirts, trousers, socks and shoes were in a pile. Sherlock kicked the lot into the corner. Standing in nothing but their pants, they reached for each other.

Being parents was exhausting. There was always something that needed attention. Bottles to make up. Bottles to wash. Feedings, diapering, washing, bathing, soothing, calming. Once everything was sorted, it started over again. There had been no time for them to be what they had been first: each other’s. 

John placed his hand over Sherlock’s heart. “I’ve missed you.” He smoothed his palm over the creamy skin on Sherlock’s chest. “So much.” Leaning in, licked the hollow just above Sherlock’s sternum; he tasted marvelous.  
“Mmm.” Wrapping his arms around the slender hips, John pressed their bodies together, his desire evident against Sherlock’s firm thigh. He rolled his hips a bit to grind himself against it.

“You are getting wet,” Sherlock said, touching the damp spot on John’s pants with his left thumb. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked. 

“You always get me wet. And that,” indicating the thumb in his love’s mouth, “is making me wetter.”

“That was rather the point.” Emphasis on the hard ‘T’ at the end of ‘point’. He pushed his thumb into John’s mouth and gripped John’s hard-on through the dampening pants with his right. Stroking and pulling, bringing John to a hardness that was almost painful. Sherlock switched hands. John eagerly sucked the wet fingers into his own mouth, rubbing his tongue over the slightly salty skin.

Sherlock used a little pressure on John’s cock to direct him to the bed. He sat and pulled John onto his lap. John tucked up against Sherlock as close as he could and rocked his hips, bringing their still pants-clad cocks together. The whisper of the fabric brushing together was maddening. 

“Lay down,” John commanded. Once on his back, Sherlock stretched languidly. He was in no hurry. They had all night. 

John hovered above and continued to rub himself against the long, hard curve of Sherlock’s penis. “So good, soo good.” John was breathing in long inhales and humming on the equally long exhales. “Hmmmm.’

Sherlock had one hand on each cheek of John’s arse, not trying to rush John, just giving a steadying hand. “Oh, yes, that is just… keep going.” His mind was starting to drift off-line and he felt as if he was floating.

John was beginning to settle his weight on top of Sherlock a bit. He nuzzled his face into the space between pale shoulder and slender, lovely neck and pressed a kiss there. It smelled fantastic and Sherlock’s hair was so soft where it tickled his face. John wanted to stay here forever. Take up residence and never leave. 

“S’nice, isn't it ‘Lock?” John mumbled into his dark, soft nice smelling new home.

“Mmhmm. Yesth.” Sherlock lisped.

Mrs. Hudson came up to the flat around 8:30 to find Ewan’s favorite bear. What she found instead was John atop Sherlock, still in their pants, fast asleep. Sherlock was snoring lightly through his slightly open mouth. John mumbled something that sounded like “toffee.”

“Poor dears, completely knackered.” Mrs. Hudson found a blanket and covered them up. “Being parents must be exhausting.” 

 

(This is for no-one-could-be-that-clever’s Mother. Because I know she remembers what it was like to be a new parent.)


End file.
